They talk about death
As you talk about a fruit
They look at the sea
As you look at a well

Women are languid
In the dreaded sun
And if there is no winter
It is not summer

The rain is crosswise
It beats from grain to grain
Some old white horses
Humming Gauguin

And for lack of breeze
Time stands still
In the Marquesas

In the evening, fires rise
And points of silence
Which expand
And the moon advances

And the sea tears itself apart
Infinitely broken
By rocks that took
Frightened names

And then, further away, dogs
Songs of repentance
And a few steps of two
And a few dance steps

And the night is submissive
And the trade wind breaks
In the Marquesas

The laughter is in the heart
The word in the gaze
The heart is a traveler
The future is random

And coconut trees pass by
Writing love songs
That the nearby sisters
Ignore to ignore

The canoes go away
The canoes come back
And my memories become
What the old make of them

Do you want me to tell you?
Moaning is not appropriate
In the Marquesas

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